White Wings
by Bustahead
Summary: Another Vergilcentric fic. Finally updated after what seems like an eternity. After being rescued from Mallet Island, Vergil is forced to pick up the pieces of his tattered existence and build a new life for himself. It won't be easy...
1. Chapter 1

**_I'd just like to say, yet again, that Vergil does not belong to me. Neither does Eva. In fact, no one here belongs to me even though I wish they did. Well guys, it's another angst fest, but I'm hoping to go for a different spin on things this time, and do something that no one else has really written yet. True, this probably is going to seem crap to a lot of you guys but hey! You can't win 'em all. _**

**_So, read, review and most of all, enjoy!_**

**White Wings**

I used to dream that I was an angel, back in a time before, when my parents were still alive, when we were all together, my mother, my father, my brother and I. I used to think that our pale eyes, and our silver hair was something out of the ordinary, something almost holy.

How wrong I was…

My father once overheard me talking to my mother, Eva, and overheard me when I told her I wanted to be an angel when I grew up. He had laughed, that soft yet majestic laugh of his. It always covered me, and made me feel safe and secure, like some sort of blanket. I had laughed too, but at the time I had no idea why he was laughing, or why he looked so sad as he had laughed. I realise later on, that it wasn't a laugh at all. It was a sardonic chuckle, and what was first thought of as positive soon turned into something negative and foul, already a poison to our seemingly perfect family life.

I'm alone now, and still alive, even after all the blows that Dante inflicted upon me. I lie here, drifting somewhere in between life and death, my human blood begging to let me die, my demon blood refusing to give in so easily. Mundus has gone, I can't feel his power anymore. Everything is silent. The only sounds I can hear are those of my own coughing, my own groans as my world moves in an endless spiral of pain.

The only thing that's left to keep me company is my own memories, which keep swimming sickeningly around my mind. Sickening not because I hate being able to remember such tender things, but sickening because I am filled with a dire sense of longing, a need to belong somewhere, a need to feel the love of my mother again.

But even as I think this, I know that my wish will never be fulfilled. Why? Because I revoked her love, I shattered it to pieces, I refused it, I discarded it and cast it away from me like a discarded toy that a boy no longer deems as important enough to play with. I did all this, and more, the day when I fought Dante, and turned to evil. The day when I was consumed by the lust of battle and blood, the day when I sought to kill Dante, all in order to regain power. When I joined Mundus.

Oh Mother, if only you were here to hear me cry your name. If only you could read my mind, and know that I love you, that I regret throwing your love away in my blind pursuit of power.

I suddenly feel the edges of my consciousness blurring, as darkness threatens to engulf me. I scrabble furiously for any type of sensation, anything that could bring me back to consciousness, anything that would let me know that I'm still alive, conscious. Black spots scud across my vision and I cry out with pain and fear. I'm scared, oh God, I'm so so scared. I don't want to die this way. I don't want to die knowing that my brother is filled with guilt, that he thinks he killed me, I don't want to die with my brother thinking I'm evil.

I'm not. I just wanted power, was that so much to ask? I just wanted enough power, maybe one day being able to revive Mother, maybe one day being able to go back in time or something, to try and stop what happened. I wanted to be a hero. But to do that, I needed power.

I can hear my breath sobbing raggedly in my chest. I try to cling to this, try to listen to this awful sound. Each time I draw breath, I chant in my mind. _I want to live. I want to live. I want to live. _But I can feel my strength slipping away, even as I try and chant. My words refuse to sound in my head, my vision starts to swim and become blurred, and soon I feel as though I am suffocating in a sea of black.

I feel as though I am falling, as though I am sinking into the murky confines of a swamp. Except there is no mud, instead, there is only death. I cry softly, and I'm unashamed. I don't want to die. I feel my arm reaching out for something that's not there, something that I wish to be there. I'm reaching for my mother, to take the pain away, the way she always did whenever either Dante or myself fell down and scraped our knees. She'd pick us up, soothe us with her magical musical voice. She'd reach into her box of magic tricks, and cover our hurts with a bandage. The pain would go, and we, my brother and I, we would blitz through the garden, chasing each other, challenging each other.

But the hurt is still here. It's not going away. It's getting worse.

I feel my eyes close against my will, and I feel my breathing slow. I feel my limbs become heavy with a weight that won't let me lift them. This is it…

Then suddenly, I am engulfed by a white light, and I am at peace. I don't understand what's going on. Am I living? Am I dead? Then I see the impossible, and hear the impossible.

A magical, musical voice, come to take the hurt away. A magical, musical voice. I smile to myself. _Everything's going to be okay…_

I reach out towards her, but no longer am I the man I've become. I'm my mother's little boy. She's holding onto me, stroking her hand through my hair. I'm crying, I'm so happy. Her love embraces me like a warm blanket, and I feel an awful sadness well in my heart.

How could I have thrown all this away?

She smiles at me, and suddenly, white wings unfold. I stare at her with wonder shining in my eyes.

White wings…

Perhaps there really was some part of my family that was holy after all.

An angel trapped in a mortal's body.

I don't care anymore, about the past and about the awful things I have done in my quest for power. None of it matters anymore. I don't need power. I don't need anything but her.

I'm home.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Thank you for all the support. You guys truly make my day. Now, it's been a while since I've written out my individual messages to my reviewers. In fact, I don't think I've done it since the days of HiTH, which makes me sad. So here I go again, I've missed this, telling everyone individually what you guys mean to me. (laughs)_**

**_Bear with me, the notes may take up to a page long or so!_**

**_Kikoken: Much thanks for the kind words. I know you've been very very busy lately so to know that you took the time out to read my stuff fills me with a great sense of happiness._**

**_I'm me, who are you: Nice name.P I'm glad you liked the ending. I just hope you like this ending just as much._**

**_Kireiko: Prepare for some more potential OOCness. It was actually meant to start off in character but then things gradually spiralled out of my control. It's odd, when I write, I'm merely writing what happens. It's like I don't make it happen, the characters do themselves. For me, that's what being a writer is all abut. Infusing a character with so much personality that it actually thinks for itself instead of you having to. I guess that makes very little sense, so now you're probably scared and probably thinking I'm a psycho. (frowns slightly) Ah well! _**

**_Veronica: I hope you like this chapter just as much as you enjoyed the last one. I'm new to this though, remember? Well, relatively new to romance anyway._**

**_Mental-Chick246: (winces) Eeek! I'm sorry for making you cry! I just get so carried away when I write angst. I dunno, when I get depressed, I start to write about things I feel and think about and voila._**

**_Laylah: Hello! It was SUCH an honour to be reviewed by you! After all, you write Vergil so wonderfully, so to be able to have received a review from you was seriously one of the happinest moments of my life! And now I've probably scared you away by admitting to that. Heh, whoops!_**

**_Mor: You have only yourself to thank that I didn't scrap this. Thanks so much for all theencouragement. I couldn't have done it if you hadn't told me to keep going. _**

**_VergilSparda666: No, thank YOU for giving me great fics to read in my spare time when I've been too lazy to type! Well, because of you, this is no longer a one-shot, I just hope you don't kill me for what happens._**

**_Vampy Sparda: Hey YOU! (tackles and hugs) well, here you go, another chapter. (laughs) I know what you're thinking "Oh crap! That means I have to review! I'm running out of things to SAY!" I think we all go through that point at some stage or the other. I know what the feeling is like. Anyway, prepare to see more little known sides to Vergil. And much OOCness. (gags)_**

**_Kalina Ann: Yes, I certainly DO know who! Thanks for reviewing! I hope you didn't feel you had to wait too long for this._**

**_BloodyDemonEmpress: Thank you! (happy face) You know me, I can't get enough of tragicness and angstiness when it comes to writing. I just hope that it doesn't turn stale anytime soon. great, now I sound like a cookery show._**

**_PrincessChaos: I have the sudden terrible feeling that all my fics are depressing because nearly all of them have nearly reduced you to tears. I'm sorry!_**

**_And last but certainly not least:-_**

**_Black Shadow Fox: Thank you. I really tried to make it seem as though vergil was lost, so it's a relief to know that I succeeded. I've been sending you E mail messages all the time, don't tell me none of them have gone through? Damn...anyway, I hope you read this message. It seems my E-mail is being crappy. As usual. (scratches head)_**

**_Anyway, enough authoress' notes, I think I commented to everyone I could. I hope everyone enjoys the fic!_**

**Chapter 2**

My mother watches me and enfolds me lovingly into her arms. I breathe in deeply, close my eyes, basking in this beautiful warm glow of love. I feel as though I am bathing in something pure, something wondrous, as though I am dancing in the sunlight. Which is ironic. I never danced. I never liked the light. But now? Everything seems so precious. I want only to be by my mother's side. But what's this? What's happening? She's pulling away from me, and searching my eyes. And then, before my very eyes, her face starts to fall.

'Vergil?' she whispers softly. I stare at her, unsure of what was going on. She shakes her head as though shocked and the expression on her face changes from shock to grief. 'Vergil…' she said again, her voice like a low moan. 'Why?'

What did she mean "why?" Couldn't she see? I wanted power. I wanted to be near her again. I wanted to bring her back.

Was that really so hard to understand? Was it really so difficult to comprehend my way of thinking? If I gained enough power, then I would have done it. If I had gained enough power, I would have defeated Mundus myself, I would have lived, I would not have been bested by Dante.

I would have brought her back.

I seethe with anger, hurt that my mother fails to understand the way I am, the way I think. But I was an idiot. I had adopted a fairytale world, where my childhood was gorgeous and sweet, where there was no pain, where there was no anger.

In my dreamscape, I was loved and adored. In my world, I was happy, and I never felt hard done by.

In reality, I was always full of anger.

In reality, I knew that my parents loved me, and I knew that I had some sort of affection for them. But there was also the fact that Dante was perfect in every way. He may have been unruly, he may have used coarse language, but he was warm and full of a bubbling vivacity that I never possessed, but wished I did.

I was quiet, I was calm. My every move was based on winning my parents' pride. I would strive hard, study hard and excel in all my subjects all in order to please them. Yet everything I did was overshadowed by my brother, who seemed to do as much effortlessly. He was charming and sweet. I was cold and reserved.

Even today, he can still effortlessly charm the birds out of the trees. And me? What do I have? Nothing. I can't even keep my mother smiling when I die and join her. I bet she wishes secretly that she had Dante with her instead of me.

'Why?' she asks again. I stare at her angrily.

'Because I wanted to bring you back.'

'You'd attack your brother?'

'Of course. That's how much you mean to me, Mother. Or didn't you realize? Haven't you realized yet?' I find myself replying tetchily. She looks slightly taken aback.

'Vergil?' she asks again.

'Why have I never been able to make you smile the way my brother has been able to? Why can't you ever show me half the love that you show my brother? Why can't you accept that I am different from Dante. That I am not him?'

'But you sided with Mundus? The very one who your father sealed! And Temen-Ni-Gru? You sought to break the very seal that your father created, and you succeeded. Is that really the actions of a son who loves us as we loved him?'

I stare at her, confused and angry.

'Where are we anyway?'

'Where do you think?' Mother's voice was hard and wretched, as though I was gutting her while she was alive. I think in many ways that I am, but I am fuelled by rage, furious that she can't understand my thoughts, angry that she's making me out to be some sort of heinous criminal.

I am no criminal.

I did all this for her.

But she's staring at me now. I see another formless shape materialize behind her, and I am immediately struck by fear. I don't have to see the face to know who it is.

He stares at me, and I lower my head, refusing to meet his eyes. They're right, I admit it. They are right.

'You don't belong here…' Father says slowly, softly, his voice filled with a deep regret. It feels as though a knife is being twisted in my chest. 'They won't allow you to stay. But you are my son, and I believe there is some good in you. As one last favour to your father, prove them that I am right.'

I look quickly towards my mother, and she's crying. I feel flushed with shame. I never wanted to hurt any of them. I never wanted my parents to stare down at me with shame.

I feel a sudden flash of pain, and I stagger, bent double. Father holds me close, a loving, warm embrace, despite the horrible acts I committed. I close my eyes, this pain is unreal, like nothing I have ever experienced throughout the duration of my life. I open my eyes, but my father is no longer there, neither is my mother. I'm lying on the floor, gasping with pain.

My heart races, and I can feel it's beating against my chest. I take another deep breath before staring about. I'm lying in a puddle of my own blood, still on the wrecked island that once was Mallet.

I sit up slowly, and the pain has gone. Was that all some kind of a dream or was it reality?

I stand and stagger unsteadily, allowing a soft groan to escape my lips. I felt as though I belonged for once in my life, and it has all been taken away. I gather my weapon to me before limping away, determined to try and find a way off this accursed island.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey everyone! It's me again! And now I have become slightly more used to my keyboard of DOOM! WHOOHOO! Anyway, here's another chapter of White Wings. Just to sober everyone up since the humour that is "When Mundus Gets Bored"_

_I'll leave you all to read this and do what you will with it. I'd love it if you review, but at the same time it's all up to you guys!_

_Until my next update!_

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 3**

As I slowly make my defeated way out of the chamber I had tried to use as my final resting place, a barrage of emotions strike me, as though fate is a small jeering boy throwing stones at a donkey tied to a post in a field. Guess who's the donkey...So many revelations make themselves known to me, and before I am fully aware of it, I am sobbing freely. They are harsh panting sobs, exhausted and ragged with an animalistic undertone to them. I'm crying out with pain, my whole body seems to ache with the realization that I got so close to what I really wanted all this time, only to have it stolen away from me again.

I never thought that I would have to relive my worst day again. I never thought that perhaps I would have to witness my mother leaving me again. The pain is terrible and I can no longer walk because of the weight of my agony. I want to die, that's all I ever wanted after Dante beat sense into my head unwittingly. Yet my father doesn't want me to go. Why? I understand that parents always wish the best for their children, and they never really wish death upon their offspring, not unless the parent in question is mentally unstable. But is he doing this to spite me? I wouldn't doubt it, especially not after all I have done. Every single one of my actions have smited the name Sparda over and over again, and the legacy and legend that he carried with him.

My father must hate me, and I understand.

I hate myself.

I hate everything about myself.

I only wanted something simple, I had a simple way of getting it.I always thought that if I was to be punished, the punishment would be something as quick and as simple as death. But it appears that I am wrong, yet again. This punishment is anything but simple and quick. It's complex, and I can't begin to describe the torrent of feeling that flows through my pattern of thought. I can't begin to describe to anyone how my heart feels as though it's going to burst out from my chest. I can't begin to describe to anyone I know how I just want to curl up and die, yet knowing that I can't.

Even suicide is no longer an option. If I try and kill myself, they will just send me back, just as they have done now. And that was not suicide. That was justice. I was the one in the wrong apparently, and Dante accidentally killed me. I know it was an accident, I watched from the shadows as he picked up my amulet, I watched from the shadows as sorrrow crossed his face. He never meant to kill me, he didn't even know. But perhaps if he did know, maybe then he would have tried even harder to finish off his pitiful foolish brother.

I always thought that it was the other way round. That Dante was the foolish one. I remember what I once told him.

"Foolishness, Dante! Foolishness!"

But it was me who was the fool, and I showed that when I spoke those words in the first place.

I realize suddenly that I can't begin to tell anyone my feelings, not only because the emotions are so complex, but also because I have no one in the first place. My quest for power ate into everything, became a mad obsession. I have no friends, I have no family, I have no one. The only family I have left is Dante.

Dante!

My eyes brighten slightly before dimming, and sobs start to wrack my body again helplessly. I struggle against them, trying to rise up against my tears, trying to conquer my emotions, to prove to myself that I am still strong, that I am still the person who I thought myself to be, that I am still me. Silent, strong Vergil.

But I'm not anymore.

I was silent because of my power-hungry mission. I was strong because I had a goal, to get back to my mother. Without my goal, I am stripped of my mission, and without my mission, I am nothing else.

I suddenly know what I want, and when I realise it, I desire it with an aching maddening need, similar to how I felt about power.

I want, no _need _to go home.

I want my brother. I want to have a life. I want to have everything that is human.

I want to live.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

I keep walking onwards, unsure of where exactly I'm meant to be going, unsure of where I should go once I get off this island. I'm hopelessly lost; most of the castle has crumbled and has become nothing more than rubble. Old doorways are now blocked up, and new partitions in the wall have opened. In the sewers, there is a huge hole, fallen from the concrete that had once formed the ceiling. I clamber up onto the pile of rock and lever myself up, to find myself in the main lobby. The statue of the knight on horse-back is still there. The tip of the lance has broken off, and everywhere I look, there is lava stains, where Phantom met his end. I don't pause to offer my condolences.

I never really did like that thing anyway.

I find myself smiling, thinking of Dante's bravery and courage in facing up to such demons. And to think that I used to hate him, in spite of all my respect for him. No, that's all gone now. There is no more hate inside me.

I want to find him somehow, and tell him how sorry I am. But how much time has passed? How long have I been on this island for anyway? I pause to stare at my reflection in a shard of broken glass.

My hair has become longer than before; it hangs in ragged strands over my face. I push my hair back and catch a glimpse of my eyes. There's a strange light that was never there before, as though my sight is jaded. There's a horrible sense of confusion in those pale eyes. Does that look really belong to me? And that armour, am I really wearing that? It looks out of place. It doesn't belong to me. It can't. It feels so suddenly heavy, as though I can barely walk in it.

Seeing my face like that, makes me feel panicky. I stare about, at the ruins of the castle. What is my identity? Who am I? I never took the time to find out. I have a name, and I had a family, but other than that, what else did I have? What do I have now?

And even as I ask myself this question, I know what the answer is. I have nothing. I never did have anything more than a name and an ambition that was doomed from the very beginning.

What do I do now?

And again, my heart answers for me immediately.

Find Dante.

If I can find Dante, everything will be okay. Won't it?

It will.

It has to be.

I just don't know what I would do if…if the worst came to the worst, if Dante refused to forgive me. I'm suddenly struck by an unsettling thought. What if Dante's met his end? What if I'm the last Sparda?

One might ask of me why I fear so much for Dante's life. To them I would answer that I do not know for how long I have been trapped in the underworld, for how long I have heard no news of the happenings of the human realm. How long have I been unconscious for? How long have I been lost?

The thought scares me. I want my brother. I want some semblance of family I suddenly know with an achingly clarity what it is I crave. I want some sort of comfort, that despite our losses, and despite the fact that I know mother and father no longer wish to have me, that everything will be okay in spite of all this.

The only one who can give me this is Dante.

But will he?

I pray, yes pray, that he will.

I beg that God has not turned his back on a sinner who begs only for forgiveness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

As I continue to stumble through the remains of the castle, trying to get to daylight, more and more thoughts run through my head. How long have I been here? I think that perhaps I have thought this before, but it has returned, hoping to haunt me again. How old am I? My body feels young, strong and supple yet at the same time I feel as ancient as the hills. I feel as though I have overstayed my time in this life.

Will Dante let me back into his life?

O brother, my brother! How I pray you will allow me to atone for my sins! I cry to myself, wishing I had the voice to speak out loud. How I'll beg with you if you refuse me! I shall prostrate myself before you and plead for your forgiveness.

Brother, have you changed? Are you still the courageous man I once knew? Are you still bold? Are you still coarse? I miss your coarseness. I miss my family. They are dead, brother, and I saw them but they turned their backs on me. They did it because they wanted to give me a second chance.

While I might have been burning with rage at first, I am no longer the fool that I was. I realise why they did it. A second chance at life. But what do I do with it? What if I fail and cause more pain and more hurt? What if I am to lose myself again and am forced to succumb to the darkness one more time?

I need guidance. I need someone who can show me the way to the light. That's the thing though, who can guide me when I have been lost for only God knows how long? How will they know I am here? How will they find it in themselves to forgive me and guide me when I can barely be passed for a human being? When I can't even begin to hope that I can forgive myself?

I feel so disgusted and sickened by my past actions. A memory flashes through my mind. I am falling and my hair is slicked back, my eyes are full of an insane yet corrupted righteous light. Dante is young, his pants tucked sloppily into his brown boots. I used to call him uncouth. I used to call him unworthy. I continue to fall, it is a deliberate action. Dante runs towards me silently. He does not need words to express his feelings; his eyes betray him and let me read his emotions only too well. His eyes silently tell me that I can claw my way up to the light, if only I take his hand, if only I trust and believe in him the way he has always believed in me. I slash at his hand, rejecting him, rejecting the light, rejecting my blood, my family. Rejecting everything to avenge everything. I almost vomit as I remember how I had spilt my brother's blood.

I hurt him in my haste to run away from what I knew deep down inside me to be right. I thought only of the power I would gain by hailing my birthright, of how I might be able to use the added strength to help revive our mother. I did not only hurt Dante physically; I am sure that I also wounded him mentally.

As I fall I hear a howl of misery.

But no sound had ever escaped Dante's lips.

The memory ends, but my tears don't. I do not even know when they began, when they started. I feel a darkness consume me, but it isn't evil. I know the true dark meaning of evil, I have done that which is evil.

No, this darkness is different.

I think it is grief.

It's so hard to remember. It's so hard to place what exactly this feeling is within me. I feel a roaring bottomless sadness in the deep recesses of my body, of what is left of my shredded soul. I feel as though there is a part of me that is missing. I do not feel whole. I am flooded with an awful darkness. Is this grief?

I have grieved before, I know. But that was such a long time ago, when mother died.

No one ever really remembers the pain of loss. It fades after a while. And when you experience it again, it is a pain like no other. It will not heal and you cannot try and do anything to quicken the process, to take the pain away. Then when the pain does fade for a little while, you immediately feel guilty and wonder when you started getting over the loss. Then one tends to punish themselves even more. That is what I did. I think it is what I am going to do again.

My tears finally stop leaking out of my eyes and I begin to feel sufficiently recovered. My crying appeared to be so violent that at some point I had fallen to my knees. I stand again and find to my consternation that my legs are wobbling underneath my weight. Why is this? I question myself, searching desperately for an answer, for a reason as to why I should feel this way. My stomach feels numbs, so does the rest of my body. Only my heart and mind appear to be actually working as they should.

Am I weak because I have spent so long without food and drink perhaps? But demons can fast for months and survive without coming across even a paltry dish.

But I'm not a demon.

No, I can hear a little voice of reason telling me that I am half human, that I must not forget it, or even try to forget such an important part of me. The voice tells me that I failed because I ran away from who or what I really am.

And to think that all this time I had accused Dante of cowardice, had told Dante that he was running.

No. He was embracing it. He was doing everything that I should have done and he is probably still doing only what is right. I want to join his noble cause. I want to do what is right as well. I want to atone. I want my parents' forgiveness.

I force myself to my feet, force myself to stagger towards the daylight. I know that then, and only then will I truly be free from this castle and all that it stood for. I cannot bear the thought of having to stand upon the same ground upon which the foundations were laid for this great castellan tragedy. As I stumble, I hear a deep rumbling, I feel as the atmosphere is disturbed. I feel and hear but I do not comprehend, not until I feel rubble collapse upon me and watch as my world turns to…


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Oh Mother…it hurts, it hurts so much…oh won't you come and take the pain away from me? Don't ask me where exactly it hurts Mother, because I know that I will not be able to tell you properly. It hurts everywhere, Mother. Everywhere. My legs ache, my arms ache, my joints ache, my stomach hurts, Mother. So does my head, so does my heart. Mother? Why are you walking away? Mother? Mother! Come back! You haven't cast your magic spell! It hurts still, Mother, it hurts me still! It's…it's getting worse…Mother…I can't…I can't breathe Mother…I can't breathe! Mother!_

My eyes snap open at that point, and I stare around, disorientated, confused. This is not our back garden…this is an old crumbling castle…where am I?

And it a flash, it returns to haunt me. Mallet Island. I am still on the island of the dead, of the damned, where even hope has become extinct. But it is at that point that I realise that not everything in the dream was an illusion after all. The pain is very real, as is the sensation of suffocation. My chest feels tight, I am gasping for breath, sucking it in raggedly, struggling madly with every effort I make. I writhe slightly against the terrible prison that binds me. I open my eyes but all I see is darkness. Have I turned blind?

Fear begins to build up inside me, working alongside the pressure on my chest, hoping to suffocate me. I open my mouth, try to cry out, but my voice has been thrown into a status that is less than the sound of a human and more like a beast in its sound and nature. I feel a sudden fury flare within me. It sputters out immediately before flickering back to life again as it begins to overpower the fear in my heart. It is too soon for me to die. I will not give up so easily! Not so soon…I will…I will gain Mother's pride!

A fire begins to rage in me, my eyes snap open again but I no longer see only black. I see only the rich vivid shade of crimson. I can feel a burning in my mouth, a restlessness in my limbs. Then I suddenly hear the sound of ripping. Wings. The flames roar in my head and the pressure suddenly eases, not disappearing completely but becoming easier to manage. I cry out with exultation but even in my strongest form, the sound is like a hoarse gruff cough.

The power leaves me abruptly and I gasp as the pressure begins to build again and as my legs begin to tremble under my weight. I fall heavily, struggling yet again to draw oxygen into my lungs. I turn my head slightly and see a pile of rubble beside me. There is a hole blown through one of the larger rocks, a hole that is big enough for a fully grown male human to fit through. I understand now why it was that I had seen only darkness. I had been buried.

I shift, pained, and hear the sound of armour. It is then that I realise what the pressure is against my chest, what it is that won't let me breathe. My armour has been so badly dented that it is suffocating me, making me unable to think lucidly.

My armour needs to be removed.

I writhe slightly, biting my lip in pain but I can feel it gradually loosening against my struggles. I slither out of my armour like a snake shedding its skin and take a refreshing gasp of air, no longer restricted. But even with this slight improvement, I realize that my body is still too weak. I am too feeble.

How can I ever hope to cross an ocean in this state?

I close my eyes briefly, trying to relax my body, trying to clear my mind, hoping to force it to think in a more lucid manner. I pray that an idea will enter my brain, so then I might find a way to go to what I hope might end up becoming my home. I shiver, cold. I move my injured arm, opening my eyes, gazing at it. I am glad I wore something under my armour, thick clothing, protective clothing. They protected me from the bruising caused by metal against skin. Now they will protect me from the cold winds that rip mercilessly through this castle.

So cold…so miserably cold…

I stagger to my feet, walk without realizing it and find myself blinking foolishly and somewhat confusedly in the daylight. My heart suddenly experiences an upsurge of what I think hope feels like, of what I can only guess is happiness. Though the sun gives out very little heat, I can still feel what warmth there is to experience. I smile.

So this is what it means to be alive. I limp forwards, my chest aching as I draw breath, my vision swimming slightly. I listen as though from a distance as stone and gravel crunch under my feet. I half fall down the stairs that I know that Dante had stepped upon some time ago when he had first arrived on the island. I stare about me, at the dead yellowed grass, at the flowers long wilted. To an ordinary person, these are disgusting items that are not worthy of even the merest glance. But to me it is something that is worth mentioning, that is worth stopping and peering closely at. This is what true nature is. This is wondrous and beautiful.

Suddenly, I am filled with a sense of yearning, to find what is true to me. What am I really, deep down? Am I really meant for evil, or am I meant for the light?

I continue to limp down the stairs, shivering in the wintry air and then, suddenly, I am there. I now stand at the lowest part of the island, on the rocky beach. The waves lap at the shore noisily and I hear a lone bird call plaintively as it wheels through the sky. I watch it and then look back, staring across the sea. The sun's reflection glistens in it's depths, making it seem for all the world as though the sun has fallen out of the sky and is left to die and burn out peacefully within those deep waters.

I frown.

How can I possibly hope to cross that great expanse? It is a question that has me "stumped" to steal a word from Dante's admittedly small dictionary. And so, I do nothing but sit and wait for some kind of an idea to make itself known, for some kind of plan to present itself.

The sky darkens.

The moon shines palely in the night air.

I wait.


	7. Chapter 7

_Again, with a small note. I'd like to thank each and every one of you who've been reading this fanfic. I'd also like to thank all of those who reviewed, as well as all of those who didn't, and just read it instead. Love you guys. It's things like this that keep up a writer's morale, that keep us going._

_Anyway, change of perspective here, to Lady's oddly enough. Contrast to the past six chapters, but for all of you angst lovers out there, there WILL be plenty more Vergil angst. Don't worry._

_Another note, this doesn't take place straight after the game. Laryna actually left a review telling me he should get off the island. It's okay, I know he's got to get off the island and he will VERY soon, I promise. But the point I'm trying to make is that Mallet has exploded already, if you will. However, I believe that there is a hell of a lot left there. These were demonic artefacts, the castle was cursed. I don't think a mere explosion would really wipe out all things demonic. But then again, I don't know much about this stuff but Vergil's there, on the island and that's that. Bwahaha...or something._

_Perhaps if in the game they had given us a screenshot of what the island looked like after the explosion, maybe then I could be more detailed or give you a more believeable reason, but there you go. Anyway, it's a fanfic, it's written for fun so I don't feel the need to be absolutely pedantic over every single thing. Besides, all of us here, we all need an artistic liscense, don't we?_

_So, here we go, with Chapter 7._

_Keep up the support guys!_

**Chapter 7**

Lately, it seems as though you can't do a damned thing without Dante phoning you up to demand things like "I'm bored, play with me!" after which I end up playing Playstation game after game after game. Or else I get to hear him brag about his skills and latest misadventure. Or he'll phone up and say something like, "I'm lonely, talk to me!" or "Trish took my money to buy clothes and now I can't order pizza, feed me!" There was one memorable time when Trish decided to hog the bathroom to herself. Dante rang me with the plea of "Lady! LADY! Trish's been in the bathroom for three hours and I really need to _GO_! Can I come over and use yours?" I should have made him shit his pants, but no, I didn't. He came here, made my bathroom look as if it was Dante's bathroom's twin and left on his merry way. I think he acts like a child sometimes because of the fact that he's got three friends, and they _all_ happen to be women.

Anyone else would assume he's gay.

Trust me, he isn't.

He can be so immature. First time I met him, he acted like an ass-hole. I mean, I think there'd be a lot of girls who'd shoot him in the head first chance they get. The only girl I've met who hasn't tried to kill Dante at some point in her life is Lucia, but she's too mild-tempered for her own good. Dante once had the cheek to call _me_ innocent. If he wants to see innocent, he should just talk to Lucia more often. She's too damned nice. It isn't healthy.

Having said that though, Dante does have his serious side and he proved this to me when he rang me today. Or is it technically yesterday? I can't remember; these flights and time differences confuse me so badly that it isn't even funny.

I was in the bath at that time, trying to give myself a decent treat my taking my own sweet time, by trying to relax while having a good soak and painting my nails afterwards. It's not as if I choose to act like a tom-boy by kicking demonic ass. It might surprise Dante to know this, but I _am_ a girl and we need some time to make ourselves feel beautiful and loved, even if it is just _us_ loving ourselves. Then again, he probably doesn't realize this. He _does_ live with Trish and she might be nice and all but she can't tell the difference between perfume and toilet water.

I hurried out of the bathroom and picked up the phone.

'Hello?'

'Lady,' Dante's voice sounded down the phone, deep and musical. I noticed that his voice sounded different. Now I know that his voice sounded grim.

'Dante,' I sighed. 'I was in the bath. What do you want _now?_ Soap? Food? Shampoo?'

'Lady,' he muttered again. I stopped teasing him immediately and frowned. This wasn't at all like him; I know all his moods and how to tell them apart. But for once, I couldn't identity for the life of me what was wrong. 'I need your help.'

'Huh?'

'We've had three jobs all at once. Trish has flown out to Vie du Marlie today, Lucia asked us for our help and Trish went to check things out. I've got to fly out to Egypt because there's been a shit load of demons lately. I don't like the sounds of it.'

'And the third? Who's going to do that?' There was an uncomfortable silence. '…Oh…'

'Please, I need your help.' I had never heard him sound so desperate before. 'I need you to go to Mallet Island.'

'_Mallet?_ But isn't that the place where you…?'

'Yeah…you're right.'

'And you want to send _me?_'

'Apparently, there's been a small amount of activity.'

'But it's been so _long_. Surely don't think…'

'Mundus never stays down for long. He fought my Dad, he fought me, and he'll probably be coming again. I doubt though, that that's what's happening down there. The person said there was activity, but he never said what kind.'

'Who told you about this?'

'That information is classified.' He sounded so serious, so grown up. In a way, I guess it scared me.

'Dante…'

'Lady, please.' Who could say no to that?

So here I am, pretending to be a tourist who just happens to be interested in demonology. No one here really knows about what happened on the island several years ago but apparently, a lot of people know that there was a sect or a cult or something who used to worship the devil or something. The details are shady, and no one really knows what this cult did, or whether they really were a cult at all. I'm working on popular rumours here.

It is these Castellans that I am pretending to be interested in.

Very few people actually know about the island's existence. So you can imagine the surprise I was greeted with when I told them at the airport where I wanted to go. It costs a fortune to go there, and I was made to board a tiny jet, carrying my luggage with me.

They drop you off at the airport of a neighbouring island. I've booked myself into a hotel there. Apparently, you can also rent a small boat and sail to Mallet Island in your own good time. A lot of people are put off, however, by the sheer cliffs that surround the island, by the fact that there is no safe area to beach the boat. The rough seas surrounding the island also do little to encourage people.

Many claim that it is suicide to go to Mallet Island; if the sea doesn't claim you, the rocks will.

Still, if Dante could do it all that time ago, so can I.

Though I can't help but feel a small amount of dread.

Only God knows what I shall find once I reach the cursed island…


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The hotel room is all right. It's nothing superb but then again, how can it be? When you're stuck on a small island with barely any amenities to speak of, and where there's no real business due to trading links constantly rising and falling, one would be hard-pressed to assume anything else.

Besides, there's only one hotel on the whole of this God-forsaken island. It's not as if I have much of a choice. Whether I like the hotel room or not, I would have no choice but to stay put.

When I first got there, the lobby left a _lot_ to be desired. There were cockroaches everywhere, the air conditioning was non-existent and there appeared to be no electricity.

Then I told myself that I was getting soft. When I was younger, I never balked at this kind of thing. Just goes to show how long it's been since I last went out on some sort of mission.

Well, one that paid.

And one that had me in a more or less inhabitable location.

Again, I told myself that yeah, I've grown soft and that I was over-exaggerating. The island is small, sure, but the fact of the matter is that people _do_ live here, and that if they can do it, so can I.

I've really got to find a well-paid job some time or another, maybe something that's a little more reliable than demon-hunting. Besides, after Dante took care of Mallet Island, demons appeared less and less.

The calls stopped coming.

They all went to Dante instead.

Currently, we have set plans in motion, that maybe I could become a business partner. After all, Dante _did_ promise me that he would help me eradicate every last demon.

It's odd to think that somehow the situation has changed.

At the beginning of our friendship, the deal was that Dante helped _me_ fight demons. That he was to be the side-kick in my little endeavour. Then his fame grows, everyone starts calling _him_ for his help and I've become _his_ side-kick.

It makes me wonder more than ever, how I became so…_weak_ for lack of a better word.

Still, after unpacking a few of my belongings, I feel a bit better. The electricity has come back on, and all in all, my room is not quite as terrible as it first appeared to be. That's one thing I pride myself on, my ability to adapt quickly to changes thrown in my way.

Still, there's a lot to be done, and there isn't really enough to do in my hotel room. I think it's about time I go and see about renting out a boat.

---

It's amazing, travelling is. Not the actual act of it, but the changes that come. On the neighbouring island, it was hot, so hot that if I hadn't drank as much water as I did, I probably would have fainted from heat exhaustion or something.

But as soon as I reach Mallet Island, I find that I'm shivering all over and that goose bumps have appeared on my pale skin.

I want to think that it's the weather.

But I know better.

The whole feel of the place is something that makes my skin crawl. I don't think I've ever felt this way, not since what happened at Temen-ni-gru. I always hate being reminded of that place.

Needless to say, after spending five minutes of standing on the island, I decide that I hate this place too.

The only thing that keeps me company here is the mournful cry of seagulls as they wheel about overhead.

I wonder whether they feel the same way that I do. Whether they can sense the…haunted feeling this island holds.

The wind gets chillier and chillier, more violent also. I find myself moving more or less blindly, my sole purpose wanting to find a way to keep myself warm.

'This sucks,' I complain bitterly to a nearby seagull. 'Trust Dante to give me a crap job. I bet he's not going to pay me either. Cheapskate.' I continue to walk onwards, coming across the ruined remains of a castle.

I pause abruptly.

Was it just me or did I just hear someone cough?

But there's that sound again.

And it sounds _very_ human.

Curious, a little excited and not a bit cautious, I move around the corner of the ruins and come face to face with someone I never thought to see again…


	9. Chapter 9

_**The ending is abrupt, I'm well aware of that and I don't actually care so much. (grins) I find it easier to write shorter chapters as time goes by, it doesn't make the writing seem like a chore at all, and you know that you're close to losing it when writing feels like nothing else but a chore. However, I haven't quite hit this stage just yet, but...you know, I can see it happening sometime soon. Which means that if I don't stop writing fanfics, I will at least be on a hiatus until my health starts picking up again. Thanks for all the support. You guys mean a lot to me, whether you merely read, or whether you read and review afterwards.**_

* * *

**Chapter 9**

There's a lot to be said for emotion, and there's a lot to be said for being human. There's so much that we want to achieve, and there's so many dreams that we wish to see come alive. I know now that my dream will never be realized. Mother is gone, so is Father and they shunned me by giving me another chance at life, another chance to become something as great as my brother is reputed to be.

I wonder, whether they saw what this girl obviously sees. I know her, yes, I remember I saw her several times. She was unimportant to me, she was a human and therefore wasn't worth the ground I walked upon. A worthless product of love.

I used to think that love was a worthless thing as well. But having said that, isn't it love that motivated me to do everything I did? I joined Mundus willingly, I sought to break Sparda's seal and claim his power as my own. Love made me do it. Love corrupted me and brought my soul to darkness.

I should have known better.

I should have grasped reality instead of turn aside, content to follow my own dreams that would lead me to destruction. My parents have given me another chance at life, yet I am terrified that the same thing will happen again.

Seeing this woman's face, this being who's name I never heard, it makes me feel all the more fearful. It makes me wonder whether my parents really made the right choice. They should have let me die. I might not be the stuff that angels are made of, but I would not be terrorizing anyone.

She remembers me, I know she remembers me, I can see it in her eyes, that she remembers me, that she remembers everything I did, that I was the one responsible for erecting the Temen-ni-gru.

'You…' she gasps. Her voice is older, everything about her shows the human tragedy of age. The human tragedy that my mother passed down to my brother and I at birth. Perhaps it isn't so much of a tragedy as it is a gift. To age, to wither, to die. To be free from all the sorrow that the world holds. To be let free at the end. To live forever, that seems to be the true tragedy. I have often wondered, why Arkham, this girl's father, ever craved such a thing.

'You…' she says again, and I can hear the rage building in her voice. 'You're meant to be dead!'

'Perhaps I am dead, but in a way you do not recognize or understand.' I don't know why I say it, but I do, and there is no taking back words once they have been spoken. They have already made their little impact, they have already made a dent, and could very well be written down in history. Just because things are not always heard, it doesn't mean they were not spoken. I need to stop thinking so much. I try and focus my mind, I try and focus on what is happening.

This all feels so surreal. I do not remember the last time a full-blooded human spoke to me.

'Dante killed you! He told me he killed you!'

'And he very nearly told you the truth,' I sigh. Strange, am I protecting my brother's honour? 'He very nearly killed me, but somehow, I survived. I am not sure how. I think I would rather not remember and leave it all in the past.'

She lowers her gun and frowns at me deeply. I only now notice the faint scar marring the bridge of her nose. I turn my eyes away from her and into the cloudy sky, shivering slightly in the cold. I curse myself, the cold bothers me whereas it never used to. How weak I have become!

'Someone's changed,' she mutters, sounding bitter. 'I'm not sure it's for the better.' I say nothing to this for quite a while, but my eyes flick back to her face, taking in her features.

'I need your…help.' I choke on the word. I have never asked for help before. Even Arkham willingly gave me his services, never taking no for an answer, so desperate was he. This woman is right, I _have_ changed. My dreams are dead, my power is non-existent, and I have no will for power. I know now, that nothing can bring back what has been lost.

'My help?' She looks stunned at the fact that I have even dared to ask for such a thing. 'You want me to help you?'

'Yes. To get off this island.'

'Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just leave you here to rot and die?' Her voice drips with acid, her hate for me is obvious. The only one who really has a reason to hate me is Dante. This woman is nothing to me, and will always be nothing to me. Yet right now, even though she is nothing, I need her.

'I can give you two good reasons. The first reason is because Dante would never forgive you if he were to find out that you left his brother on Mallet Island. Yes, despite everything we put each other through, he is loyal to his family, no matter what.' I see that she is nodding in agreement. She has seen something that I haven't, and it pains me that I feel envious of her. She knows my brother better than I do in some respects.

'What's the second reason?'

'Because…' I hesitate, unsure whether I want to tell her such a thing, this stranger who's name I do not even know. 'Because…I want to go home.'


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

I can't bring myself to believe that this is all actually happening. I can't bring myself to understand what exactly is going on here. Thoughts pulse through my mind and I realize that I'm vaguely aware of them, of the fact that they're there, but I can't find the key that unlocks the contents. I suppose I really have no right to be in shock, I've seen a hell of a lot of things that would drive any person of any race mad. So why, of all things, does the sight of Vergil make me want to puke and tear into him at the same time?

So this is what people mean when they say that they were turned mad with rage. I guess to feel so much anger must be indicative of some form of insanity.

'I want to go home,' he repeats, his voice soft. His voice isn't the way I remember it to be. It used to sound so cold and hard, bitterly angry yet filled with a smug pride of sorts. I don't know him much, I didn't even have a conversation with him all those years ago, but I remember everything he did, everything he put my miserable scrap of a family through. 'I want to go home.' The words echo in my mind and I sigh softly, angrily.

'You forced him into it,' I mutter, before I'm even aware of what I'm saying. I curse myself immediately for betraying my feelings so easily. He stares at me, his blue eyes dulled, his face pale and haggard. He looks so far removed from the person I remember.

'Is that what you still think?' he replies, something of his former self-possession returning. He draws himself up to his full height momentarily before his shoulders slump, as if bearing a heavy weight. He takes in a deep breath and his body jerks slightly, repeatedly. Is he crying? No, the jerk's laughing! How dare he! I scowl at him and move back towards my brave little boat, not much more than a flimsy raft made out of proper wood.

'I was going to take you back but now you can forget it,' I spit. I can't believe I've stooped so low. Vergil really is nothing more than a homeless bum and yet he still laughs at me, even now! I thought he'd learnt a few things but apparently he's still the same as ever but a little older. Asshole.

And that's when I realize the laughing has stopped.

'You're mistaken,' he calls after me. I can hear that he's straining his voice, really putting an effort into speaking with me. It might seem petty but it makes me feel a bit better. 'I was not laughing at you. I was laughing at the irony of the situation. One man, one foolish, insane buffoon tricked the both of us. In this respect, it can be said that we are equals.'

Well, well… The shadowy twin is singing a different tune all of a sudden. Which makes me feel even more suspicious of him. He must think I'm a fool of he thinks I'm going to trust him. So what if he lowered himself? He's desperate and people will do or say anything when they're desperate.

Suddenly, I remember my father's face and I'm filled with a…a regret. I killed my own father. I listened to his desperate words, I stared into his desperate eyes and I can still remember his desperate scream.

"NO!". The firing of a gun until the chambers are empty.

I look towards Vergil and I see the same look shining in his eyes. I curse my human heart. I cried on that horrible night, a single night. And now, I can feel myself coming close to tears again. I look into his face and my father's scream echoes in my head again.

I ask myself, do I really have what it takes to do it all again? Do I really have what it takes to watch the same thing happen all over again?

But before I even finish the question, I already know the answer.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The woman, who I faintly recall is known as Mary, lowers her gun. An interesting flurry of expressions pass over her face, and even though I should perhaps be a little fearful, I can't help but be intrigued by her somewhat charming display. After all, a true warrior never betrays the emotions they feel, yet this character before me has let me read her thoughts as if she is some kind of open book. Even a child could read her face without even needing to pause for thought or to give him or herself time to puzzle through some problem or another.

It's almost amazing really, how unknowing of this fact she seems to be. Of course, I know better than to let down my guard. From what I remember of her; she didn't seem to be the sharpest knife in the drawer; a human delving into a demonic tower while wearing little to no protective clothing was a stupid idea. From the short exchange between my brother and her, she seemed to be stubborn to the point of idiocy. Despite this, I know that that was a long time ago; that was then and this is now, and so many things can change in a frighteningly short amount of time. It has been a long time since I have seen her; she might be radically different now. This is why I do not lower my guard; she may very well be trying to lull me into a false sense of security by revealing herself so easily.

The silence stretches on between us, setting me on edge, even though I have faced many more awkward situations in my life. At length, I am the first to cave in. I tell myself that I have not lost any face by making the first move.

'I am tired and cold and I do not want to spend any more time on this island than I have to. But at the same time, I don't want to get my hopes up, only to have them crushed. So tell me, what are you going to do?' I see a light fall into her eyes, and the hand that had been creeping towards her pistol stops and hangs limply by her side. She sighs suddenly, and I am surprised by it though I cannot say just why. 'Well?' I am determined not to dwell on it for too long; it is not becoming of me.

Yet was what it that Mother said? I have been given a second chance. Why? To put right all that I have done wrong? Does that include myself? Yet is it even possible for me to behave in a way that is even…human? Can I do it? It's been so long. Yet they say love is a human emotion, but my father also felt love. What does it mean to be human? Can I find myself again?

'Vergil.' It's the first time she's said my name. It sounds strange coming from her. I look towards her in silence and notice how her eyes glare at me, and how her mouth is set in a grim line. I can see that she has more to say and I keep my silence. 'I'm taking you back with me. Don't even think of asking me why.' I nod in agreement.

'As you wish.'

'Don't even think of trying anything, got that?' She growls at me. I bite back the urge to sneer at her as my eyes fall upon her weaponry once more. I am severely weak at the moment and I know that this Mary girl is lethal with her firearms. She could quite easily kill me.

I have no choice but to agree, yet again.


	12. Chapter 12

_A rare update from me, I know. But don't get excited. I'm not back yet fully, though I have finally gotten my final degree result. It's good news. But I might disappear suddenly, and be without internet access for a while. No worries, I'm still around, just...not as much! Anyway, enjoy the latest update. I hope everyone will think it's a good one!_

**Chapter 12**

The world seems much changed since the last time I saw it properly, so much that I can't even begin to wonder at exactly how much time has passed. All I know is that I am somehow still alive and that I have been brought face to face with one person who I have wronged in the past. I could always ask her what year we are in but I hesitate. I have not been brought down so low that I should ask for help in every matter.

Unwillingly, my eyes slide across her face. To look at her, one would not think that much time has passed at all. I think with a pang, about what I might have achieved between then and now had things been but a bit different. Of course, these are childish, sentimental thoughts. There is no point grieving over what cannot be brought back.

Ironic.

Grieve. Clamouring over something that could not be returned at the end, despite my best efforts. Is that really all I want to do? Grieve for myself and my lost past?

I feel uncomfortable suddenly, as if I am stumbling blindly through forbidden land.

Unwarranted thoughts rise unbidden to my mind.

Grieve. Haven't I been doing just that? I did all I could to serve my mother and I did all I could to…to…those actions. All of it. It was grief. _My_ way to mourn. Wasn't it? I say that there is no point in mourning the past but that's all I have ever done. Lamenting and feeling sorry for myself.

How pathetic. How very pathetic indeed.

Confused, and perhaps feeling sickened at my own foolishness, I stare into the horizon. I don't know what the future will bring. I don't know what old and yet new emotions will reawaken within me. I don't even know how my brother, my once soft brother, will react to my return.

The uncertainty of it all, the hopelessness and inability to exert some control is sapping me of something that I can only guess at. Strength? No. I am very strong. If I wasn't, I would have died with everyone else. Determination? No. I am resolved to carry out my mother's will.

Bravery?

Don't be ridiculous. I was always the brave one. I was the elder brother; I had to be brave.

But Dante has been without his elder brother for many years now. I don't need to be there for him. I haven't been there for him since we were nineteen. But I have never been afraid. I am strong, determined and brave.

All the same, as I listen to the oars sculling the waters, I can't shake the notion that I am lacking in something, and it is being slowly, but surely, drained. I might not be able to place right now what it is, but it is there nonetheless.

'What?' Her voice cuts into my thoughts, and I am surprised to find that I am grateful for the distraction.

'Mind your business.' The response sounds harsh and distant, the way I always am. Mary looks as if she expected nothing less.

'If I had done that, you'd still be rotting on that island.' She stops rowing, fixes her belligerent eyes on me. Her nose is slightly wrinkled in disgust, her lip gently pulled back in the tiniest hint of a sneer.

'I would have found a way off sooner or later,' I reply. My voice is calm, confident, as if I truly believed the lie spewing out of my mouth. How dishonourable…Her eyes gleam like a hungry gull's and she turns the boat around.

'Want me to take you back so then you can prove it to me?' If I knew this girl better, I would assume that she's enjoying herself, loving every minute of wielding what little power she has, knowing all the time that she will win.

'I appreciate the offer, but no.' I look up at the dark, rolling clouds. 'As you can see, a storm is approaching. I wouldn't want this little _raft_ of yours to be damaged.' I smile at her pleasantly, a serpent's smile. Loaded with venom. She scowls and continues to row as I settle myself more comfortably.

For now, she is my lifeline. With barbs sticking out here and there. But I can still have my cheap little victories, even when all else is stripped from me.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

I'm beginning to think this is the craziest thing I have ever done. If it's not the craziest, then it's most definitely the stupidest. I'm sure of one thing though. I will live to regret helping Vergil get off Mallet Island.

We're both sitting in my dark, dingy, and slightly damp hotel room. We sit across from one another, neither of us daring to take our eyes away, both of us daring each other to make the first move. Vergil is the first to break.

He stretches and suddenly gets to his feet, the simple movement as fluid as his sword-fighting. I snap my pistol onto him, my eyes narrow as I take aim.

'Where the hell do you think you're going?' I spit. He frowns before a slow, cruelly amused smile becomes plastered onto his face.

'To the bathroom. Is that a problem?' His voice is smug, as if he's just announced he's the new President. I glare at him for making me feel stupid. Bastard. But I lower my gun. I don't really have much of a choice. I can't exactly let the shit piss his pants, can I?

The smell of him is already bad enough as it is.

He raises an eyebrow as he notices my lowered pistol.

'Am I free to go?'

'Yes,' I hiss. 'You might want to take a shower while you're at it. You're making me nauseous.' To my complete disappointment, he doesn't rise to the bait.

'I probably should,' he agrees, sounding thoughtful. 'Though, if you don't trust me, you're free to come and make sure I behave.'

For a while, I stare at him. I can't decide whether he's being sarcastic, serious, or whether he's simply mocking me. But if he was joking, it was about as poor as Dante's quips.

Apparently, a shitty sense of humour runs in the Sparda bloodline.

I regain my composure and glare at him.

'I don't trust you, but I know you won't run.' He turns and raises a brow at my odd statement. He's frightening really. Being face to face with him reminds me of going to the dentist. He's got that same cold, clinical air about him.

'And what makes you say that?'

'I'm taking your clothes to be dry-cleaned.' The smell really _is_ making me feel sick. 'You can't exactly leave here naked, can you? Besides, where will you go?' I seem to have annoyed him. He abruptly turns on his heel and stomps into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. I walk outside once I hear the water running and lock the door, keeping him barred inside the room. Even _he's_ sensible enough to know that if he knocks the door off its hinges, he'll be the one to pay for it. Weakened or not, a devil is still a devil.

I go downstairs and throw his clothes into a bin. Dry-cleaned my ass. They're practically shredded. The gift store has a few clothes, brown and dowdy. They'll do. Hopefully he'll fit into Mediums. And hopefully he doesn't go commando otherwise I would have gone through the embarrassment of buying men's underwear for no reason.

What the hell kind of gift store sells essentials for a decent price anyway? Unless it's the only store on the whole of the entire island.

I head back upstairs to the room. The water's no longer running. I freeze as the bathroom door opens.

Despite me having seen Dante when he's dressed in only a towel, I can't help but feel uncomfortable seeing Vergil in the same state. It's never _really _struck me until now that they're twins. I know it sounds ridiculous, but they've always been so different in personality that it never really registered. But seeing him now, he looks almost exactly like my best friend.

Almost.

His hair flops into his eyes, much like Dante's. But Vergil's hair is rougher, completely unstyled. His eyes are the same clear blue, and yet they are so very different. There's no gleam in them like how there is in Dante's. There's no _laughter _there, just a grim, empty, dead blue.

And though he's standing without any aid, and even though he's healthy, his body looks so…_withered_ in comparison to Dante's. He frowns, the corners of his mouth turned down in displeasure.

'My clothes?'

'Thrown. But I got you these.' I fling the clothes at him and he catches them. His eyes are grim, but the rest of his face remains expressionless as he inspects the bundle. His jaw tightens with disgust; I recognize the same look that Dante makes.

'Is there a problem?' I ask, my voice sugary sweet. He lifts his head.

'…None,' he growls. He retreats into the bathroom, leaving me to smile inwardly at my small victory in this odd game we're playing.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

I seem to have a new motto these days, and it's not one I'm particularly fond of. It seems as if it's too much like the motto my younger, immature brother used to live by.

'Don't think, just do.'

He'd always say that when we were at that strange phase in our lives, when we were young enough for foolish past-times but old enough to know fear.

I would usually act as the word of caution, with Dante laughing at my reserved nature and pushing on ahead with whatever he had planned for the day. He'd always return with new rips in his clothes and with more bruises to add to a rapidly growing collection while I would end the day with new knowledge on some topic which mattered little in the grand scheme of things but somehow still presented itself as a matter of great importance to a seven year old. I can't quite remember _what_ though, maybe some sort of complicated chess move or some way to beat whatever video game Dante happened to be playing at the time.

It's strange that I remember it now. And it's strange that I remember that Dante was always fond of four word long catch-phrases. Maybe it's the most he could remember at any one time.

Hn...Strange. Perhaps not everything has changed about me. I'm always so filled with insults even when he's not around.

It's ironic that the one who exercised little to no caution whatsoever, the one who didn't employ his brain for more than five minutes at a time is more successful and fulfilled in life than the one who thought things through to their logical conclusion.

'You feeling sorry for yourself again?' A voice cuts into my thoughts. I stare at her as she sits at the tiny desk in our, no _her_ hotel room. She seems to be working on some forms, I'm not sure for what. To be honest, I can't even bring myself to move close enough to her to see. Wretched woman. I shoot her my best glare but whereas before she would look away, the woman rolls her eyes, clearly unimpressed.

'Please,' she scoffs, 'as if that's going to have any effect.'

'It did before,' I retort, before my mind has time to catch up with my mouth. It is a sudden lapse of control, one that I am unnerved by.

'Yeah, you're right. It did before, when I thought that you'd be the same as in Temen-ni-Gru. But now that I've had time to think about it, I know that you're basically a toothless dog. You might snarl and growl, but there's nothing you can honestly do to me.'

'You speak nonsense.'

'Says the one who _begged_ me to get you off that stinking island. Face it, Vergil. You _need _me and you know it.'

I struggle to maintain my composure, but I can feel something build inside me, wild and burning. It's probably rage. I pretend not to know.

'Had you done that, I'm sure that Dante would have been pleased to know that you'd abandoned his brother to die. You were honour-bound to help me, not for me or for yourself, but for him.'

'After what you put us through, he would have understood.'

_That hurt_...

I refuse to acknowledge that traitorous little voice that seems to have taken up residence in the back of my mind. But even _that_ seems to have more strength than I, and I am suddenly filled yet again with doubt.

It's true that I had wanted to see my brother, because he is the last link to our family that I have left. But until now, I had never _really _stopped to consider in-depth how he would take my sudden return, allowing myself a glancing look at the issue before focusing on something else. I have held no illusions as to the terrible consequences of my actions; erecting Temen-ni-Gru alone levelled half of the entire city. So many lives were lost for the wishes of one individual.

It doesn't matter that I was played for a fool by a madman in a ridiculous costume; that's hardly a worthy defence. The fact remains that I raised my blade to my brother first, shed his blood, attempted to steal his half of our mother's amulet and betrayed my blood-line entirely.

I have briefly thought of these things, about the possibility that Dante will kill me as soon as he sees me, but in my naïvety I simply assumed that Dante, being everything that I am not, would forgive me and welcome me back, albeit it with some wariness, of course.

I hate this woman.

'You don't know what you're talking about,' I say, my voice controlled as I sit up a little straighter. 'He is my brother. I know him.'

I know as soon as I utter those words that I must have said something absurd. The woman's previously smirking face turns cold, her burning mismatched eyes swiftly study my face, calculating. She looks as if she's about to say something before she abruptly changes her mind, shakes her head and returns her attention to the papers on the desk.

But I saw something in her eyes that doused the flames of anger within me, leaving me cold and filled with a nameless something...

I think...I think I saw pity.


End file.
